About Love
by ValaGillian
Summary: “Mulder, there’s something I haven’t told you. I haven’t told you for reasons I hope you understand.” Updated! Chapter 5!
1. Default Chapter

Title: About Love

Author: ValaGillian

Rating: T

Summary: This is going to be fast. Too fast. This is about comfort and about solacing him. Or so I thought.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully, or The X-Files. I do not intend to make any profit from this fanfic. Please do not sue me.

Author's Notes: Hmm, well… It's two o'clock in the morning and I've got nothing better to do than sit here and write MSR fanfic. It's sad I know. You know, I think most of my half decent fanfics seem to write themselves at this ungodly hour. I don't know, I'm going to stop rambling on now and let you get on with the fanfic. Hope you enjoy it:D

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"Come on, Scully. Let's go." Mulder and I walk back to the car. The silence is agonizing. I must say something, anything; this has to stop.

"Mulder…"

"I don't want to hear it, Scully. How many times have we been this close only to have the whole thing blow back up in our faces? What did we do to deserve this?"

At this point he is facing me. I can see his anger struggling with his pain. They can't do this to him, to us. Not again. This time he just might crack.

He is on the verge of tears we have to get out of this building. I walk toward him and grasp his hand squeezing it in mine. With a silent concurrence we make our way out of the building hand-in-hand.

The car seems to be parked a million miles away. The sun's rays are fiery knives stabbing my eyes; the pavement an endless desert and the car an oasis that threatens to be a mirage.

In a trancelike state we release the others' hand and enter the car. The car doors deafening slam behind me and then silence.

He looks at me with an unreadable expression. I don't know what I'm feeling now or what I should be feeling. This was so unexpected.

"What now?"

He asks this question; the question that I could search millennia for and never find. A question that I want to so badly to answer to comfort him with but am wildly beyond my reach and comprehension.

"I don't know."

My voice is scratchy and isn't my own. I realize now that I am on the verge of tears. I feel his warm hand on my own and feel a strange shiver run through me. What's wrong with me? This isn't natural; I must be in some sort of shock.

My chin begins to quiver and all of sudden I'm in his arms. Leaning into him as far as the accommodations will allow. I am sobbing now my face buried deep into chest.

I know I should be comforting him right now and I don't know why I'm acting this way. Why are these emotions bubbling to the surface now when he needs me to be there for him. To be his rock. His mental rock. Instead I'm the one crying in his arms. This isn't fair.

My sobs die down and I release his sides which will probably have clawed bruise marks tomorrow. I shift back into my seat and silently curse the physical barrier between us. Who's idea was it to put arm rests in this car that don't flip back and out of the way? I silently ponder this ridiculous question and realize that I have cut Mulder out. He thinks I'm rejecting his sincerest care.

I look back at him. His head is down and he looks like he's going to break down any time now.

"I'm sorry, Mulder."

I don't know exactly what I'm apologizing for but he seems to understand and squeezes my hand tightly in return.

"It's not your fault, Scully. The X-Files was something we both knew would never last. I'm thankful that it lasted this long. Long enough for me to meet you."

His head is still hung and I can't see his eyes. Long enough to meet me! This can't be happening. The X-Files is his life, was his life. Now he's saying that he's just grateful that the X-Files, his life, lasted long enough to meet me… I don't know what to say. I'm totally confused, bewildered, I don't even know how to describe it.

He's looking back at me now. His expression is one of seriousness and truth. He's not making up any of this us. This is the truth. I open my mouth to let whatever will come out come out but before I can say anything he starts the car we pull out of the FBI parking garage.

The entire ride to my apartment complex is one of silence. Half and hour later we arrive at my buildings parking lot. He's staring out the window.

"Mulder…"

No reply. No movement at all.

"Mulder, look at me."

This time he faces me, eyes glassed with fresh tears. He's so beautiful at this very moment. I just want to hug him and protect him from the world for the rest of forever. I lean across him and turn off the ignition pulling the keys out.

He's in my living room just sitting there like a complete stranger. I told him I'd be back in a minute. I just had to change. Now I feel guilty for leaving him in there alone. He needs my strength, he needs my comfort, he needs my love. I just hope he will let me give it to him.

I change in haste and return to the living room to find him sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed in deep thought. So much pain. This man has been through so much pain. He's drained there's nothing more for him to give.

I perch on the couch next to him letting our shoulders brush and clasping my hands together in front of me. This is going to be tough. Maybe too tough.

"Mulder…"

His brow furrows and he looks like he's trying to hide from me. Like he doesn't want me to see him break down. I pull his hand from his face and see the burning emotions in his eyes.

"Mulder, we will get through this. You've been through so much lately it's just all catching up with you. You need to let it out. Let me help you."

He's looks worse. Like he's about to crack in two right before my eyes. This is bad. I don't know what to do. He's so intense and this is hurting him so. He looks at me with a painful expression full of worry and fear.

"Don't you see, Scully? That's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of taking you down with me. I don't know if I could take that. I don't give a damn about what they do to me. Or to the X-Files. But I do care about what happens to you. You are the only thing that matters to me now. I can't risk taking you down with me. I won't let it happen. Not to you."

I can't believe this. He's blaming himself once again. Fearful of my pain, for my safety. Guilty that he's causing me pain when in fact he is my only solace in this hell. Our hell.

I jump up and fall into him clasping him in a tight hug and whispering into his ear.

"Mulder, don't YOU see? You're my only safety. If I leave you or if you leave me I will go down. Not because of some government conspiracy or any disease given to me. Not because of anything you have unwittingly done to cause me harm. You are my heaven in all other hells. Don't take that away from me and stop blaming yourself for my misfortunes."

I pull myself away a little to look into his eyes which reflect great confusion and disbelief. I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks and I engage in this heated mix of emotions radiating from his eyes. I wipe a stray strand of hair out of his face and smile.

"Can't you see, Mulder. I love you."

With that said I push my forehead against his letting our sweat mingle. I feel his heated breath against my tear-streaked face.

"I love you too, Scully."

I feel my heart clench in my chest with those words. He loves me too. This is too much I must look into his eyes. When I do the intensity in those hazel depths startles me. Wow! Is this really happening?

I feel his lips press softly against my own. The kiss sweet and innocent turning to one of intensity, need, and desperation. The brush of his five-o'clock shadow on my cheek makes me moan into his mouth granting his tongue entrance. The feeling is surreal. I really have died and gone to heaven. Our heaven beneath the hell.

He breaks the kiss and his lips begin to travel down past of my jaw line and over my neck pausing to suckle one especially sensitive spot leaving his mark. His hands are all over me.

"Oh, God."

This is going to be fast. Too fast. This is about comfort and about solacing him. Or so I thought.

"Scully.."

He's looking at me now. Uncertain.

"Scully, is this what you want?"

Of course, Mulder would never take advantage of me like that. Never.

"Mulder, I want you. I love you."

He smiles in return.

"I just want you to know, Scully. This is about love. Not about comforting me or as a result of what happened today. I love you and that's what this is about. I want you to feel that love."

This is more than I can take. I slide my lips onto and into his once again this time the kiss is softer, sweeter, and seems more like Mulder. Yes, this is better. Much better. It's going to be a long night.

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	2. The Morning Light

Chapter Two: The Morning Light

Author: ValaGillian

Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully, or the X-Files. Please don't sue me.

Summary: A desert that only got rain after a terrible sand storm.

Author's Notes: Here's the sequel everyone's been ranting about. Hope you like it. It's once again the early morning hours that seem to write this fanfic. Hey, it's no surprise really anyone with experience writing MSR fanfic has definitely been through this before. Well, I'll stop my rambling and let you get on with it. Please tell me what you think. Good or bad. I'll love you forever anyway.

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The dreary morning light floods her bedroom. The rain outside is rhythmically tapping the bedside window. The cold room cast in gray shadows as if it's long been dead.

I however am holding the woman I love securely in my devoted embrace. The heat under these gray covers is sufficient enough to fill the entire room with love and warmth.

The juxtaposition of these two elements flickers only for a moment in my consciousness then disappears forever as she stirs in my arms. I think she is going to wake up but instead falls back into her deep slumber leaving me to observe her beautiful face in the shadows of the room.

Her eyes flutter relentlessly. She is dreaming. I know I've dreamt of this very moment hundreds of times but never allowed much more than that. Before she told me she couldn't live without me, that if I pushed her away to save her she would die anyway, I would've never allowed this.

I would've never put her in danger this way by letting this happen. By letting her get this close to me, by letting myself get this close to her. I have been neglecting water in a desert that has been through a drought no environment could ever hope to sustain life in. A desert that only got rain after a terrible sand storm. Rain that was so sweet for its brief life span. Rain that only consisted of our short-lived touches and caresses over the past seven years. And storms that were, and are, hell to reckon with. Storms of great hurt, sorrow, and despair. But all that changed after she said those three inevitable words. Our desert got its monsoon.

I never would've believed it had I not heard it with my own two ears. Had I not saw it in her eyes. Felt it in her touch.

Ironically enough, here we are. Wrapped in each other's hold. Daring to challenge the long forbidden. Risking the risks. Taking the leaps. And loving every minute of it.

I can't help but smile. Letting my lips slide against hers, which are against mine even in sleep. How could I have known? That something so terribly drastic as the permanent closing of the X-Files would permit such a frantic act.

I knew that's not what she wanted. She didn't want this to just be about comfort, about solace. Neither did I. This had to be about love. And it was. It is.

But never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would actually be here. Here in her bed, holding her. Her naked body molded into my own.

My thoughts disappear when I feel her lips curve into a smile against mine. This is what heaven is like. Her eyes are the ocean possessing all of its deep uncharted mysteries that will never belong to man completely.

"Mulder, did you roll up the windows in the car? It's raining like a son of a bitch out there ya'know."

The humor in her voice is unmistakable and I feel myself laugh uncontrollably. Giggles attack her body ferociously making her wiggle against my iron clutch on her. The humor starts to pass and I can see the happiness in her eyes and feel it in my own. This is why it's about love.

The shrill ringing of the phone sends an electric charge through the air that breaks our eye contact momentarily. Before she can reach the phone I grab it and answer. What am I thinking? The ridiculous possessiveness invading my body spreads like cancer when I hear the male voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?"

I screech into the receiver.

"Who is? Is this Agent Mulder?"

Shit. It's Skinner. Time to sign our death certificate.

"Sir?"

My guilty squeaking is pathetic and Scully is staring at me with a horror stricken facial expression.

"… Agent, we have a serious situation here at the Bureau. They're saying that you and Agent Scully killed a man."

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	3. This Was To Be Expected

Chapter Three: This Was To Be Expected

Author: ValaGillian

Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully, or the X-Files. Please do not sue me.

Summary: I however, can smell the ashes. I can hear the screams in the distance.

Author's Notes: Written at a late hour as usual. Just thought I clear up a few things on how this happened and their reaction. Not to mention Scully's condition in Season Seven. Don't get too technical w/Mulder's illness in these chapters because it's not an issue. In other words I didn't want to deal with it. I hope you enjoy this one as much as the last two and please tell me what you think. Please…

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16 Hours Earlier

Deputy Director Kersh's Office

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, please have a seat."

This meeting was to be expected. After Mulder's complete disregard of Kersh's strict orders not to pursue any cases that may involve "so-called aliens or anything of the kind" for the time being it was almost reserved. However, I had no idea retribution would come so swiftly. And on wings of red flame. This is bad.

"Agent Mulder, please explain why your latest case report concerning your recent trip to Oregon contains detailed descriptions of so-called _aliens_; _Alien_ involvement in the apparent _alien _abductions of Billy Miles, Theresa Hosie, Deputy Ray Hosie, and many others. _Alien_ involvement that I strictly warned you to stay away from."

Mulder, don't screw this up. Just say you're sorry and let us leave with our jobs and lives. Please…

"I'm sorry, sir, was that a question?"

His voice sounds sure. He acts as if he doesn't hear the drums in the distance signaling our impending doom. How could he not hear? He's just sitting there composed and calm before a raging inferno.

I however, can smell the ashes. I can hear the screams in the distance. The breath that I've evidently been holding through this entire meeting comes out in a silent rush. My hands are absently brushing each other in my lap. I guess it was too much to hope for.

Kersh doesn't look surprised. This can't be good. We have been on thin ice for so long. The thinnest of ice. But still Mulder insists on wearing the sharpest of skates. We have been dancing to this deadly tango for seven years now. The ice is starting to melt. The lights are dimming. I can almost feel the heat from the scorching sun about to rise over the snow-covered hills.

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, I have no choice but to suspend the X-Files division indefinitely. Your misconduct and ill use of FBI resources have caused nothing but problems for the FBI. As of now, you and Agent Scully are assigned back into the mainstream division and will assume active duty after a two-day calming-down period. That will be all."

Sunrise. I swallow hard. I dare not look at Mulder. If I try to get up I will fall so I stay seated. What did Kersh think Mulder would do? He knew what Mulder would do. That's why he restricted it. This was just another way to catch the fox in the chicken coop. What will this do to Mulder? How much can he take?

"Agents that will be all."

I can hear Kersh repeating himself in the distance. His voice is fading fast and I feel dizzy. Not the vertigo again. Please don't get sick. Do not throw up. I can feel Mulder's cool hand on my heated neck and I reluctantly rise. Somehow I am able to follow him out of the office and into the Bureau hall.

I blink steadily letting my vision clear. The cool air helps and my breathing returns to normal. Mulder. He's quiet. Too quiet. People are staring at us. I give them a fuck off gesture and they go back to their own business.

"Mulder…"

I wet my lips unsure of his response. There is no response. He looks broken. Pale and disillusioned. We have to get out of here. Just as that crosses my mind I hear his voice. So cold, so distant.

"Come on, Scully. Let's go."

What are we going to do now? And how am I going to tell him? Now, after everything we just went through. How am I going to tell him I'm pregnant with his child? With his son?

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	4. He Needs To Know

Title: About Love Chapter Four: He Needs To Know

Author: ValaGillian

Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully, or The X-Files. I do not intend to make any profit from this fanfic. Please do not sue me.

Summary: "Mulder, there's something I haven't told you. I haven't told you for reasons I hope you understand."

Author's Notes: This one took a little longer to organize the right details but I think I got everything I wanted in for this chapter. Whew, this is the longest fanfic I have ever written. I think I'm starting to scare myself with its length and possibilities. Anyway, I'll let you get on with the show. PLEASE tell me what you think!

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The world is spinning. Spinning further and further out of my control. Control I thought I had at one time. Control my career demanded. My life demanded. My heart demanded. But that control is gone now. Gone with the shrill ring of a message. A statement that will change everything now. As change always does.

The spinning however is not the world falling to pieces around me although it would appear that way in a metaphoric sense. It is instead the familiar scenery of Arlington. The houses, apartments, and sidewalks all register in my memory banks under the name Mulder. This is his street we are now leaving. A street that has become a doorway of sorts. A doorway that is ominous and frightening. A doorway that can only lead to our eventual ruin.

The conversation was quick and to the point. The EMTs telling the surgeons the basic facts before performing immediate open-heart surgery. Though the type of operation we observed here wasn't performed by any sane doctor of acclaim. No, whoever did this used a short-handled dagger to stab a man three times in the stomach. An extremely painful wound that was performed with such haste and preparation to perfect the body of any evidence. Someone who perfected this body in an alley adjacent to Mulder's apartment complex. Someone who knew what to look for and where. Someone with criminal investigative experience. Someone who left Mulder and my prints on a bloody dagger. Someone who was just what the doctor ordered.

The agents at the scene were quick to bag this rigged evidence and assume truth without question. Our arrival only worsened the situation. Skinner immediately questioned us as to our motives of being at the scene of the crime. Our own motives being elusive in and of themselves. Like the mind destructively craving phobic images that will only torment the body further. His voice was very sullen and skeptical.

"You're both lucky to be outside a jail cell. What are you doing here?"

I don't remember the details of the speech that flowed from my mouth at this inquiry. Mulder's hand. I remember his hand on mine when the subject of our whereabouts at the time of the murder came up. The harsh tone of the executioner demanding a hanging. The silence that followed. The kind of silence that demands answers, demands explanations.

The air hung between the men and us. Mulder was getting angry. I could feel it. The hand that was showing me so much love in this time of need still masked the revulsion for them that was coursing through his veins. That still is coursing through his veins as they grasp the steering wheel as I reminisce now. So I squeezed in return. He probably saw it as a support. It was however a way to clench down on the pain invading his body. Pain attacking my body. Pain, unknowingly to him, assaulting his own son's body.

But he told them the truth nevertheless saving me the indiscretion. Jumping in front of the speeding bullet only to have it rip through his heart and keep coming, path uninterrupted. When the bullet had finished its journey it had killed two people not one. The bullet lay motionless in this deceased corpse that ironically enough died of stab wounds.

Then I felt it dawn on me. The body. The stab wounds. There had to be something. The bullet is still inside and it has a story to tell. An evil gunman fired that bullet through stab wounds and if we get to it first we may be able to run our own ballistics on it and figure out who the killer is and his motives. But the bullet does not truly exist. And ballistics is hard to run on stab wounds.

But the real surgeon will not announce time of death until punching in that last shot of epinephrine. That last shot that may just get us clear. Get that heart pumping healthily in the breast once again.

Arlington cemetery. Now it is we who move past the surroundings. Faster than the speed of this bullet. The body will have a story to tell and we will get there first. The early bird and the fat worm. This worm will be full of lies no doubt but the truth will surface and no matter how nasty the job is we depend on it. I depend on it. Love depends on it. It always has. The race may not be centered on the finish line just yet.

He looks beaten now as we sit in traffic. Like the war has already been lost at the expense of this one battle. Not here. Not now.

"Mulder…"

No answer. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do so I touch his arm. Now he faces me. The emotions on his face are unreadable.

"Scully, this should not be happening to us. Shouldn't be happening to you. I can't risk you any longer. I will take the fall."

I swallow hard. I knew this was coming. He can't do this. He has no idea. He must know. He can't know. Not yet. But what do I risk now by not telling him. He must know. I feel the emotions deep within me stirring and bubbling to the surface.

"Mulder, there's something I haven't told you. I haven't told you for reasons I hope you understand."

I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I want to turn to him. Let him see how important what I'm about to say is. The enormous impact it will have. On us both. But I can only stare at my lap ashamed. Ashamed for not telling him sooner. Ashamed for reasons I can't even comprehend. My vision is blurring and I feel dizzy. Instinctively I place a hand on my lower abdomen. I'm going to throw up.

"Mulder… Oh God."

I lean back my neck resting on the upper portion of the headrest. Everything is spinning. It's getting darker. The sun is setting and I feel the chill of darkness creeping into my body. I can see Mulder's worried expression and I believe we have pulled over. He's leaning over me now but I am speechless. He looks so worried. I want to run a finger down his cheek and sooth his anxiety but all I can do is stare into his eyes. I see pain, fear, and worry brewing in those hazel depths. My last thoughts are that he needs to know. I need to tell him, it can't wait. But I'm losing him now. The world is slipping away. All is black.

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	5. A Hard Pill To Swallow

Title: About Love: Chapter 5: A Hard Pill To Swallow

Author: ValaGillian

Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully, or The X-Files. I do not intend to make any profit from this fanfic. Please do not sue me.

Summary: Like any man should be able to love a woman. And its ecstatic to know that the woman you want to love so badly wants to love you in the same feverishly passionate way. And does.

Author's Notes: I actually wrote this one in daylight! It's probably going to seem strange but I think I did okay on it. The plot thickens and begins to boil here so watch out. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and support. Enjoy…

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The hospital is bright. The light blinds me briefly. I walk onward even though I can't see. Onward because I know she will be there. Onward toward my savior. But like all, even those religiously devoted, I have that flicker of doubt. That moment in time where its just so hard to believe you can be saved. Then I bury these thoughts and continue my crossing into the unknown.

I reach her room. I want to go in so badly I'm scared to. I afraid of what's waiting behind this door made of wood and steel. Boards and nails. I let this fear pass through me and ease its way out leaving prickling on the back of my neck. I have to go in. I close my eyes and grasp the icy door handle.

My sweaty hand makes it difficult to open the door but I get it on the second try. I imagine an empty bed. An 'I'm sorry for your loss.' Goosebumps rise on my skin. I know she's gone. She has to be. I've caused her so much grief and anguish she took her first chance to get away from it all. To get away from me. Away from us.

But when I open my eyes there she is perched contently on the small hospital bed. The sunlight pours in through the window on her right. She looks like an angel descended from heaven. Only an angel could withstand the hell I've put her through. One that adds a dash on the tattered tally board.

She faces me when she hears the door close. Her affectionate smile sooths the inner depths of my soul like only she can. She's really here. She's okay and she's here. Here with _me. _I grin at her and she pats the side of the bed motioning for me to come sit with her. I move toward her a little faster than normal. She's really here.

The mattress is soft and I feel myself sink into its deep embrace. Like the infant loses itself in the taste of its mother's milk. She looks out the window again. She's here but she's far away. What was she thinking about? Does this have something to do with whatever she was going to tell me in the car? Something that obviously caused severe anxiety. Something that must be terribly important to us both.

I grasp and squeeze her hand.

"Scully, you're freezing."

She faces me once again and I see fresh tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

I feel my heart clench in my chest as the first tear falls and lands on her freckle sprinkled cheek.

"Mulder…"

I want to scream at her 'what!" and sooth her pain away at the same time. The air between us hangs still. The hurricane is coming. I can feel the wind and water on my face. No, that's her delicate breath brushing my cheek. I feel the tears rolling down my face. What am I crying for? Then I feel it. She moves my hand and sets it gently on her lower stomach. Then she covers my hand with hers and looks at me earnestly.

Lightening. I feel the surge of electricity travel from my head to the small capillaries in my toes and back again. She can't mean what this… No, it's not possible. But what if it was? What if… No, it can't. It's too much to hope for. We tried this before and it didn't work. It didn't work only tore us apart. But… could it be? Could something so wonderful happen to _us_?

I realize now that I am staring at her shocked and probably drooling. A million questions are burning in my mind. How? When? And then an strange one comes out.

"Mine?"

Please… Please… Please let it be mine. God, let it be mine. What if she tried again with an anonymous donor? What if…

"I'm pregnant with your son, Mulder. Our son."

Another tear falls from her soft eyes. A long breath escapes my lips and then I grin at her. Then I start laughing. I can't stop. My stomach is flipping. My mind is screaming for possible explanations. And my heart. My heart feels like its going to bust with happiness. My son! This is good. Too good. She looks confused at my sudden burst of exuberance and then grins at me.

As much as I want to savor this moment in sincere happiness, maybe the first time I've ever really experienced it, my mind shouts nauseatingly that there has to be a catch. But I see truth in her eyes. Truth that I will not doubt. Cannot doubt. Would NEVER doubt. She needs love. I need a hug.

Then we were in each other's arms letting all of this soak in. This is the rain in the extensively scorched desert. Rain that has become fruitful over time and will flourish. Scully's pregnant! With my baby! The woman of my countless dreams having my baby! This is too much to comprehend.

I press my lips against hers. It feels so good to be able to love her like this. Like any man should be able to love a woman. And its ecstatic to know that the woman you want to love so badly wants to love you in the same feverishly passionate way. And does. That it's about love.

She's going to give me a son. I love this woman more than I could ever love anything on any planet. A son. I'm going to be a father. This is hard pill to swallow. I release her lips and push my forehead against hers. I let out another long drawn out breath. So what happens next? What are we going to tell everyone? What are we going to tell the FBI?

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